degrees of freedom
by seleneswan
Summary: My dreams run faster than your feet. —Hinata-centric, eventual Naruto/Hinata.


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**degrees of**_** freedom**_**  
**_arc one: glass fingers_

[It was our journey, together on that long ride from Point A to Point B, and together, we took the midnight train going anywhere.]

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She was made of porcelain. Not quite the kind that the saucers and teacups that she grew up with were made out of, but thinner.

More delicate.

To her widower of a father, that was the greatest blessing of them all. He would give her a cursory glance now and again and murmur of how since he'd had the terrible misfortune of having daughters, how lucky he was to have such beautiful, fragile, feminine ones.

She was just a girl in a woman's body. Just a child pretending to be an adult.

She was simply a girl whose only use and purpose in this world was to be of the marrying kind. She lived in the countryside by summer and went to a prestigious all girls' boarding school close to the city by the rest.

During her spring holidays, she would head off to a session of finishing school.

She learned the arts, foreign languages, cooking and sewing, playing the harp and piano. She learned her math and studied her chemistry, but in the end, it was her life as a home economics student that mattered most to her father_. For your lifestyle_, he would tell her, _for your future. _

And during the summer she would practice her posture and bowing and balance. She would be given a few badminton lessons, some tennis, a little more equestrianism. She would watch and clap appropriately while her father golfed.

She attended garden parties on behalf of the family when it was deemed she was acceptable enough to go out into society on her own, doing her obligatory socializing and tittering. She would putter around mechanically, going through the motions.

When no one was watching, she painted.

Hinata was made of paper porcelain like those dolls she strung together in acrylic on a wash of watercolors when her schedule was free and the night was quiet.

She was made of paper porcelain, but even so, she never thought she would break.

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_To my cousin—_

_In regards to your last letter, I appreciate your concern, but this is the Destiny I have been assigned to. As a believer in the Fates yourself, I can't understand why you're encouraging me to fight this, but I do appreciate it, Neji, I do._

_I think perhaps Tenten-san is getting to you._

_I am happy for you—yes, I know I do not know, but I do, somehow, that she is It—and I can only wish that when the time comes, I will be invited to your wedding. I know Father will disapprove terribly and I know the consequences of dabbling in affairs that are not to the "standards" of our clan, but I _do_ feel that…that _love_ is worth it. _

_I'm glad, Neji, that you are fighting your predetermined Destiny in order to be happy. To go against the ways of our backward family, to become free. _

_How I envy you. _

_Ah, perhaps it is me that has been encouraging you to such thoughts as we were initially speaking of. _

_But I cannot afford…_

_I could not push my burden onto Hanabi. She's got a whole life lying dormant at her feet, and it would be shameful for me to crush that._

_It would be inhumane. _

—_Hinata_

.

Hanabi was so dear to her. A younger sister spoiled rotten, she was ever so bright, so mouthy, so opinionated and not bound to the reigns of being the eldest child. She spoke her mind and her soul, and it was exactly that quality that Hinata envied.

She loved her, hated her sister.

Hanabi wasn't paid attention to. Family members didn't stare at her with beady eyes, picking out all the faults, smoothing out all the wrinkles. They didn't whisper and comment, didn't do so much as glance at her once.

Hanabi had had the good fortune of being born three years after herself.

So while Hinata painted by the moonlight, she would encourage Hanabi to be the person she wanted to be. She would mold and paint and create ideas that she would have wanted for herself, instilling them in Hanabi instead.

Like a mother who passed on her fallen dreams to her child, Hinata sowed the seeds of freedom in Hanabi's soul.

Hanabi was only just becoming a woman, only just entering her early teens shortly.

Perhaps one day soon, Hinata thought wistfully, Hanabi would learn the art and beauty of painting for herself.

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"You will be turning seventeen soon."

"Yes, Father."

"I will soon have to call upon your aunts to guide you in the task of sifting through the suitors."

"Suitors, Father?"

"For your wedding, of course."

"M-my…?"

"I think perhaps a summer wedding would be appropriate, but we will have to consult the astrologers and your aunts before we make decisions as such."

"Father…?"

"What is it?"

"I…never mind."

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On Monday, she met Itachi. It was after the three hour drive towards The Heights, a high class development that was more urban than her own rural living, but still not _urban_ in the fullest sense of the term.

The Uchiha family of his was not eager at all to let him marry into any Hyuugas such as herself, but her family was insistent at their matrimony after realizing the accumulated fortune that would eventually filter their way.

Her family was old money, but his was new.

Hinata supposed she understood the appeal, but she wanted nothing more to kick and scream and run far, far away…

The car stopped at the pinnacle of the circular drive at the lip of the mansion. The door was opened for her and she was ushered out onto the cobblestone. Refraining from stretching (as that would trigger noises that would most certainly not be lady-like), she simply rearranged her business-casual dress, smoothing the wrinkles, and surveyed her surroundings.

The lawn stretched endlessly behind the house, all trees and flowers and gardeners cultivating them. The windows of the house were large. Draperies adorning the windows could be seen from the outside, and beyond them, high-ceilinged rooms.

It was beautiful—this much she knew.

But somehow, the house seemed almost lifeless. Not lived in.

Her attention was turned away from her observations and towards a slight middle aged woman in a blue dress. Her hair was straight, her fingers manicured, a set of what looked like new heels adorning her feet.

The lady of the house, Hinata easily presumed.

"…and you must be Hinata-san," she spoke smoothly, a voice that Hinata was used to. The high bred voice of class.

Hinata smiled softly, bowing. "It's a pleasure to meet you, finally, Uchiha-san."

Lips stretched over teeth and she smiled brightly, eyes crinkling with the crows' feet which were so cleverly hidden before. "And you, my dear, and you."

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It was after the maids had poured the tea and left that Mikoto fixed her sharp gaze on Hinata, inspecting. She was currently the only person of the Uchiha family that Hinata looked at directly. Something twisted deep inside of her every time she contemplated turning her head to her immediate left to her potential partner for life.

It was as though, somehow, impossibly, looking at him made it official. Made the whole thing more real.

So she resisted, instead keeping her gaze trained on the lady of the house, her sister, and her detestable family.

"So, do tell me about yourself. Where have you done your schooling?"

Hinata licked her lips quickly, knowing this was a pivotal moment. This was the moment whether, as a daughter and a woman, she was going to be accepted by his family. And she knew, instinctively, education was at the top of this woman's priorities.

"While on holiday, I take regular lessons Hakoda's Finishing School, but during the year, I attend the Katawa Girls' Preparatory of the Arts and Sciences. I graduate this spring," she murmured, taking her tea from the edge of the table and sipping it noiselessly.

Mikoto's lips upturned in a smile. "I used to attend there, myself," she noted, referring to the latter school. "Tell me, does the power still go out during the rainy season?"

Hinata smiled, at ease for only just a moment. "Without fail."

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The clock read four forty two when she finally grew the spine to look at him. He was talking about what he did at work to her father, and very slowly and hesitantly, she raised her eyes to him.

He was beautiful.

She was terrified.

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Her hand was in his. She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but somehow, with his mother's urging and his gentlemanliness, he had offered her a hand up from the couch and she, in turn, had taken it. But somewhere around the time that she knew it was appropriate to let go, he simply hadn't.

And was now carting her down the hallway.

It was when they left the closure of the house and stepped outside that she saw he was leading her towards a greenhouse.

The glass door opened up to an Eden.

The first thing that registered was the lilies, the earthy smell, the faint trickle of water. The second was that Itachi had turned her around abruptly, was talking to her, undertones of urgency in his voice.

"Live your life."

She blinked, startled. "Excuse me?"

His expression was hard and desperate, and she almost felt that as he looked at her, he was seeing someone else. Someone whom he loved. "I know the kind of life you've been expected to lead, because it's mine. I know the kind of way you mother your sister because I have a brother, because I see it on your face every time you subconsciously look at her with concern. I know the expectations and the upbringing and the feeling of being a caged bird because I see it in my mother, because my mother is you. But you're not a son; you're a daughter," He paused, looking at her seriously, "and you have a chance."

This she was not expecting.

Her mouth popped open for a brief moment, completely shocked. But as she looked at him, _really_ looked at him, in his eyes he saw her reflection. And she understood.

And although she didn't know this man, didn't know anything about him but his name and the fortune that came with it, she _knew_ him, knew him as well as she knew herself.

"I can't," she said, shaking her head. "Because if I leave, Hanabi will only replace me. And I would be a horrible sister for shoving my family's scripted destiny on to her. She has a _real_ chance—not some flimsy half-baked dream—…and I can't take that away from her."

His lips twisted upwards into a bittersweet smile. "She doesn't. Because after you're gone and married off, be it into this family or into another, you won't be a Hyuuga anymore. You won't be their concern any longer. _She_ will be. And she'll be in the exact same position that you're in."

There was stillness as he finished, the words echoing in her mind. She stumbled backwards a little, graceless, and sat on the edge of a raised flowerbed.

Her legs collapsed to the left, curled in an almost sidesaddle manner.

She took a deep breath and sat in silence, eyes fixed in this distance beyond his shoes.

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_To my cousin, Neji—_

_I got your last letter! I'm pleased that you've gone to the jewelers like I told you to. Goodness knows that Tenten-san only deserves the best. I do think it'd be prudent for _her_ to pick out the ring though. Your taste—and no offense intended—is questionable. _

_If your wedding is not as well received and as beautiful as Princess Diana's, we'll be having words. Although I do suppose this is a bit premature as you have yet to actually propose to the girl, I hope you know I'm so happy for you._

_Your children will be beautiful. _

_Ahem. _

_Again, I implore you to understand the difference in our circumstances. Father thinks we live in the 1500s. He always has. It is how I am seventeen, and for him it is perfectly acceptable to think of marriage when people in America are busy dating and doing _normal _things. _

_It is the difference between the main and the branch, and you should be thanking your lucky stars that you were not born in my place. I know you think me ungrateful, but if you were in my shoes…_

_I met Itachi Uchiha today. I was supposed to meet Shino Aburame next week, but it appears as though he's out of town for the next month. _

_The Uchiha family has been kind to me. _

_Hanabi is well. _

—_Hinata_

_P.S. Don't forget Tenten-san's birthday like you did last year! She's turning twenty four in March. Get her something nice. _

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It was nightfall and she was still reeling. As she sat in the window seat of her room, staring out at the constellations she all knew by name, she wondered why she hadn't thought of that before.

Why she hadn't thought of anything beyond her own imminent marriage, the one she had pushed off year after year after year…

Ever since their mother had passed, had drowned that one summer, things had changed for Hinata, and she'd become Hanabi's surrogate mother.

She'd always just assumed Hanabi would be free…if she took the fall.

She'd always just dreamed that maybe Hanabi would become something great, a doctor, a philosopher, a teacher. Something she wanted to do for herself, not what her family told her.

But Hinata's perspective was different, now.

It was as though her rose tinted glasses had slipped off of the bridge of her nose, and everything was frighteningly clear.

So as she pressed her cheek against the glass and her eyes slipped shut, ensconcing herself in the darkness, she _knew_.

She knew that, somehow, after all this time, there really was only one choice for her.

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She went sailing with Itachi on Tuesday. They took a boat down to the coast, and slid out onto the water.

She felt fearless.

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"How did you feel about the Uchiha boy?"

"Ah…he was…" she searched for an ambiguous answer. "He was fine."

"And"—a photo was thrust under her nose—"this is the Aburame boy. He's considerably less of a looker, but he's got a steady flow of income as does his family. He also lives in the country, so it would be just like home, and your Hyuuga genes would be dominant in your children."

She took a sip of her green tea to avoid the silent question in her aunt's eyes.

"The Uchiha family, on the other hand…" she pursed her lips. "It would be hard to determine how the children would come out. Historically, their genes have passed on quite dominantly. But if you were to marry, you would also likely end the small undercurrent of rivalry that has always existed between our families, and that could go a long way."

Her aunt regarded her silence with an appraising look down her long nose. She raised her eyebrow, the age lines in her forehead gathering together.

"Well?"

Hinata cleared her throat softly, hesitantly. "I'll do whatever is best for the family."

And with a pleased glint in her eyes, her aunt nodded. "As you should, dear. As you should."

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Hinata sat on the rooftop as the drinking and conversing below lulled down, the festivities winding down as the fireworks began at her engagement party. With a glass of untouched champagne in her hand, she gave brief attention to the flashing colors in the sky before turning her eyes, as always, to her sister.

"Have you given it any thought?"

Hinata started, back straightening to look over her shoulder. "It's not appropriate for you to be here," she murmured. "We're not to be alone until we're wed," she quoted the things she had been taught.

He disregarded her, seating himself beside her a suitable amount of distance away. "Have you given it any thought?" he repeated.

She set the glass of champagne down beside her and folded her hands in her lap. "Plenty."

Itachi stared at the fireworks, pensive.

"If you go," he said, something deep and yearning in his voice, and he broke off, finding the words. "When you go…" he started again, and then stopped.

She turned to look at him for a long moment, and then tipped her chin up to the sky, losing herself in the bursts of color.

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Hinata stood in the ocean, the tides collapsing around her ankles and pulling her deeper in, the sand slipping between her toes.

She wondered if this was what destiny felt like.

Pulling, like gravity, tenacious. Never letting go, taking everything deeper without rhyme or reason.

The waves lapped at their shins.

"The world is your porch," she spoke, finally, to Hanabi, whose hand was in hers, just like they used to when they were young. "If the seas are destiny, then you should craft a boat and lead it."

Her younger sister tugged at her hand and Hinata turned to face her, feet leaving imprints in the wet sand. "You're getting married, not _dying_. But…you keep saying all these things like they're a goodbye."

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She saw the Aburame boy from ages ago in the flesh on her wedding day. Although he wasn't the groom and she'd only seen him in pictures, the brief glance she had of him from the second story balcony overlooking the leafy butterfly garden was enough.

A monarch flitted around him as he cradled a small lady bug in his palm.

And she knew, from looking at him, that she could've had a comfortable life. He would've been kind, and she would've made a friendship. They would have had a few children, and she would've grown old with him.

He could've been one of her closest friends. Her sister could have married a weak man and gone off to learn the world for herself. And when she did something spectacular, of course Hinata's husband would have let her travel to meet her younger sister, to praise her, to take pleasure in the pride and joy that was her life: her Hanabi.

She knew from the way that he carried himself that he would have been a successful man and she could have done the things her family would have wanted her to do.

It was within her reach.

But as she stepped away from the balcony and looked in the ornate mirror behind her, the one that reflected the reality she had chosen, and moreover, the carry on sized suitcase full of the things she had packed for her 'honeymoon', she knew that her future was much more definite.

She had built her boat in the ocean of her fate, and she was about to set sail.

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Hinata was anything but impractical. So as the minutes counted down until she was told to walk down the aisle and seal her fate, she slipped herself quickly out of the layers of wedding dress and pulled jeans on instead.

She removed the complicated underthings and heeled shoes, instead toeing her way into old running shoes from her badminton days. The soft, downy fabric of the shirt from her high school philosophy club went over her head and she tugged the zippered hoodie's sleeves onto her arms as quickly as possible.

With a brief swipe of tissue, she began to roughly wipe off the makeup on her face as best she could and, not bothering with the innumerable amount of bobby pins in her hair that would take eons to get out from all the hairspray, walked out the door.

The luggage was already in the car, the keys to the car in her handbag. The passports, should she come to need them, in the inside pocket of her jacket. And the train tickets—most important of them all—in the outmost zippered pouch of the rolling, small suitcase in the trunk.

And her sister already in the passenger seat, buckled in.

…and her almost brother-in-law in the back, pushed by his brother to leave.

…and her almost groom standing at the altar with a look of hope in his eyes as he saw her quietly open the door to the car without notice.

…and her almost groom standing at the altar, a bittersweet half smile on his lips as she waved goodbye to him.

…and the purr of the engine starting, and the turning of heads, and her driving away.

—

**tbc**

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**notes: **probably, nobody remembers this and that's perfectly dandy, but in case the seems familiar, it's because this is _technically...a_ rearrangement of a previously incomplete drabble series that I decided worked better in arcs than in teeny drabbles. this will be a three our four parter, I think. I suppose we'll see if I ever actually finish this.

thanks to sonya for editing this like 2909304 years ago. *^*

I have a lot of love for shino, guys. shino shino shino shino.


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